


Saving Private Donut

by We_Are_the_Crystal_Gems



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alters, Daddy Kink, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Docnut, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Grimmons, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Multi, Panic Attacks, Physical Abuse, Praise Kink, Verbal Abuse, sargenut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2018-10-01 05:21:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 9,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10181564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/We_Are_the_Crystal_Gems/pseuds/We_Are_the_Crystal_Gems
Summary: After years of dealing with physical and verbal abuse from Doc/O'Malley, Donut wakes up in the hospital yet again. He's decided to give the medic one last chance. The title is loosely based on "Saving Private Ryan," but this is in no way related.





	1. Once More, a Hospital Bed

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning, I suck at angst and this story is full of it. This is partially inspired by another fic I read on here that I can't remember the name of that had a similar basis of abusive Docnut turning into hurt/comfort Sargenut. I've had this in my head for a while so I had to get this out.

"Leave me alone," the pink-clad man whimpered, "You're scaring me, Frank." As soon as a kick connected with his ribs, however, Donut knew he wasn't dealing with Frank anymore. The other man was a pacifist, though his words cut deep. His alter, O'Malley, was another story. He tended to come out whenever Donut had done something to anger Frank...which unfortunately happened frequently. Another kick connected hard with his stomach, and he blacked out.

* * *

He woke up to the unfortunately familiar sound of hospital monitors beeping and a dull ache throughout his body. It wasn't the first time O'Malley had put him in the hospital, and he knew better than to even hope it would be the last. He was startled by a hand on his own.  
"I'm so sorry, Franklin, I don't know what came over me." It was Frank. At least O'Malley wasn't out at the moment. "I promise baby, it'll never happen again." Donut had heard that a million times, but he didn't dare to say anything, lest he trigger another appearance from O'Malley. Instead, he looked up at Frank, forcing a smile. "How bad this time?" he whispered timidly.

Frank sighed. "Four broken ribs, broken arm, whiplash, and a concussion." Donut just nodded. He hated how cool the other man could sound about the whole thing, but he let himself assume it was because of his medical training. He couldn't afford to let himself believe anything else.   
"I'm gonna get you some breakfast," Frank said, "You rest up baby." Donut nodded and closed his eyes. He didn't trust O'Malley not to come out if he fell asleep, but the fluorescent lights were killing his head.

"I'm done with this," he murmured to himself when he was sure Frank had left, "I'm done. I know he has a disorder, but I can't stay with a man whose other personality hates me. The yelling I can handle but if he ever gets physical enough for O'Malley to come back out, I'm leaving."

 


	2. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donut comes home from the hospital, and it goes about how he'd expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible triggers in this chapter. Donut remembers some of his past abuse, and there's several uses of homophobic language.

Donut got out of the hospital three days later. Much to his discomfort, Frank stayed with him the entire time. Fortunately, O'Malley never made an appearance, but Donut knew it was only a matter of time. Frank was always a loving, doting partner while Donut was hurt, but once he was healed enough to hold his own, things would change.

Once Donut was well enough, the yelling would start back. But he could handle the yelling. Growing up gay in a small Iowa farming town, he was used to the threats and the derogatory remarks. Those were bearable.

The verbal blows were bearable, but the physical blows were another story. It was the physical blows that reminded him of a drunken father, of numerous "conversion" camps, and the countless homophobic bullies in his life. It was the physical blows that reminded him that he would _never be good enough._

* * *

_"You're_ pathetic _, boy" a man said, picking up a young teen by the collar of his shirt, "I always knew you were too goddamn feminine for your own good, but I never thought you'd be a fucking_ faggot _." He threw the boy down, aiming a hard kick to his chest._

_The boy whimpered, trying to curl in on himself. He knew there was no use in trying to protest. 'It's my own fault,' he thought to himself, 'I knew I never should have brought Stephen home with me.'  His father lifted him up again, smelling strongly of alcohol. The boy knew there was no avoiding a beating if his father was this heavily intoxicated._

_"I should have made your mama abort you like I wanted to," his father sneered, "Be glad she's not around to see what a pathetic little queer her_ precious little Franklin _turned into." The boy looked up at that point. His mother had died when he was six, and his father never hesitated to remind him that she would have survived the accident if she hadn't leaned over to protect him._

* * *

Once Donut was cleared to remove the neck brace, all hell broke loose. "You're fucking pathetic, Franklin," the medic said, shoving him away, "You should be so glad I don't have to wait on hand and foot anymore. If I had to hear you bitch about how bad it hurt one more time, I might have fucking lost it." Donut flinched at the mention of a potential visit from O'Malley, but he knew better than to say anything. As long as he held his tongue and let Frank vent, he could avoid angering him. He didn't want a reason to leave.

As much as he was tired of O'Malley beating the hell out of him, he did love Frank. He had gone into the relationship knowing that O'Malley existed, but he had thought he could keep the other man calm enough to keep the alter at bay. He had realized the flaw in that plan within a week of dating the medic.

* * *

_"You're cheating on me, aren't you?" the medic asked, tilting Donut's head back to look at him. Donut cocked his head to the side. "What the hell are you talking about, Frank? I'd never cheat on you." Frank shoved him away, shouting, "Don't you fucking lie to me, I know when I'm being cheated on."_

_Donut tensed, averting his eyes. "You're imagining things," he murmured, "I would never cheat on you." Before he could process what was going on, he was on his back.  "Frank, baby, you're scaring me," he whimpered._

_A cold, emotionless voice came from his partner. "Frank's not here, you fucking_ whore _" he said, "He's too much of a pussy to do this himself."  Donut opened his mouth to protest, but was slapped sharply. He tried to roll away to prevent another blow, but was held firmly in place by the weight of the larger man. "You know you deserve this," O'Malley snarled, "You know you deserve to be punished for being such a filthy whore." A sharp blow connected with his abdomen, and everything went black apart from the pain._

* * *

"You know I love you, right baby," Frank said, sliding into bed behind Donut. Donut nodded absently, not trusting himself to speak. "Talk to me," the medic said, rolling him over to face him. Donut tensed, knowing if Frank was angry enough to manhandle him, O'Malley could come out at any second. "I said," Frank repeated, "You know I love you, _right_? You answer me when I talk to you, Franklin." Donut looked away but whispered, "I know, Frank. I'm just tired." 

In a sudden flash of movement, Frank had Donut pinned on his back, with all of his weight on the younger's still-bruised abdomen. "I know you're tired of me, baby. I saw your fucking search history. 'How to get out of an abusive relationship?', 'How to leave someone with DID?' Are you fucking _serious_ right now, Franklin? You're seriously thinking of leaving me after all I fucking do for you?"

In mid-sentence, the voice had changed. Before he could react, O'Malley had pulled him up by his broken arm, causing the smaller man to whimper in pain. "Oh, that's not even the worst of it, bitch," the alter snarled, "There won't be anything left of you to patch up this time."

* * *

An hour later, Donut had dragged himself to the bathroom, spitting blood as he went. Propping himself against the shower wall, he called the first number he came to, his former teammate from his military days, Dexter Grif. He didn't even know if the other man was anywhere near the area, but he had to try.

The Hawaiian man picked up on the second ring, sounding completely exhausted, "Donut, holy shit, is that you?" Weakly, Donut confirmed this. "Dude," Grif asked, "Are you okay? You sound like you got hit by a bus or something." Donut franticly explained the situation, carefully leaving out the parts where his partner had put him in the hospital. "I have to get out," he said, choking back sobs, "If I stay, the next time he gets mad, I don't know if I'll make it out."

"I'm back on the island dude, but Sarge is living about half an hour from you," Grif responded, "I can call him for you. Will you be safe until he can get there?"

"I don't know," Donut whimpered, "I'm scared Grif. It's never been this bad before." Grif sighed. "Stay where you are, Buddy. I'll make it a three-way call while I call Sarge, and then I'll stay on with you until he gets to you. You're gonna be okay, you just have to hang in there." Donut gave a weak affirmation before slumping back against the shower wall. "Keep talking, Donut," Grif said, "He won't do shit if he thinks you're still where someone else can hear. I learned that the hard way with a couple of my mom's boyfriends."

* * *

About forty-five minutes later, there was a commotion outside the bathroom. It was mostly Frank, who had mostly calmed down by now, pleading with Sarge not to take him, and Sarge threatening him alternatively with police action and his trusty old shotgun, which was apparently in the back of his truck. Donut weakly dragged himself across the bathroom to unlock the door, and attempted to stand before collapsing into the arms of his former Commanding Officer. "I got you, Donut," the older man, surprisingly only in his early fifties, whispered into his ear before gingerly lifting him up.

The room was spinning, at least from Donut's perspective, and the voices of the other two seemed to be going in and out like a badly tuned radio. The last thing he was able to process before passing out was Frank begging him to reconsider, repeating over and over that he loved him, and Sarge responding that he'd done enough damage.


	3. My Fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donut once again wakes up in a hospital bed. This time, he's in good company. Will the others manage to convince him that it's not his fault?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been getting updates up really fast because I'm currently on spring break, but today is my last free day, because tomorrow I'm taking my cousin to celebrate her 13th birthday, Saturday my boyfriend comes home, and Sunday I have to do something as an early birthday for my dad. Then Monday I'm back to school, and it's the middle of the semester, so my professors are probably gonna overload me with work.

_A small, bruised teenage boy curls in on himself, silently pleading for the pain to end. He knows better than to think that it will, but all he can do is pray. He's been doing a lot of that since he got to this horrible camp. Praying to a God he's not even sure he believes in, because what kind of a God takes away a six-year-old's mother, leaving him with only a father who hates him? What kind of a God lets a little boy stay in a home where he never knows if he'll see the next day? What kind of a God would condone a camp where children are beaten and starved in His/Her/Its name simply for who they are attracted to?_

  
_'Please,' he prays silently, to whatever being might be listening, 'I can't take this anymore. Even if the beatings won't stop, please at least let them feed me. It's been almost a week, I've barely even had water.'_

  
_He's tuned out the words they're saying around him. He's heard all of this his entire life. He knows what they're saying without having to hear it. He knows that they're calling him a freak, a faggot, a demon. He knows they're saying he'll go to hell. As far as he's concerned, he's already in hell._

* * *

For the second time in about a month, Donut woke up in a hospital bed, with his entire body screaming at him in agony. Panicked, he looked around, expecting to see Frank, and sighed in relief when he saw his former CO sitting next to him instead.

  
"Three days, Kid," the older man said, resting a hand on his shoulder, "Don't tell anybody else I said this, but you scared the shit out of me. Ten hours of surgery and four blood transfusions. It was touch and go for a while there. Don't do that shit again, boy. I haven't had a heart attack yet at my age, I don't need one now."

  
Donut nodded. He didn't know why Sarge had chosen to stay that long, but he was glad he had, and he wasn't about to question it. Before either could say anything else, there was a knock on the door, and Sarge opened it to reveal none other than Dexter Grif and Dick Simmons, both looking exhausted.

  
"It's about time you woke up, dude," Grif said, sitting down gingerly on the edge of the bed, "You had us all scared shitless. We hopped on a plane over here as soon as Sarge told us you were in the hospital." The large Hawaiian man hugged him gently, murmuring, "Thought you were gonna die, man. So glad we got you away from that psycho."

  
Donut tensed, turning away. "Don't talk about him like that," he said, "You don't even fucking _know_ him, he can't _help it_." Though he didn't vocalize it, the _it's my fault_ was heavily implied, and nobody missed it. Before he even realized he was crying, he had three pairs of arms wrapped around him. He hadn't even notice Simmons had left the doorway.

  
"It's not your fault, dude," the ginger whispered, rubbing his back, "you don't have to defend him anymore. The nurse told us you were just in here a few weeks ago. He's done this before, hasn't he?" Donut nodded almost imperceptibly, whispering, "More than once. I don't know why I keep pissing him off."

  
He felt Sarge tense beside him, but the older man didn't say anything. Instead, it was Grif who responded, "Donut, it's not your fault. I know he has a condition, or whatever, but that doesn't give him the right to hurt you. I thought you told us this guy didn't like violence when you started dating him?" Donut sighed, looking down. "He doesn't. His alter does though. Frank yells at me all the time, but it's O'Malley that comes out when he's mad enough to get physical...that's been pretty often lately, and it gets worse every time."

  
'Because I'm a fuck-up,' he thought to himself, suddenly having to hold back sobs. Before he could verbalize this, Simmons was rubbing his back again. "Donut, I promise you, it's not your fault," he murmured, "I know he makes you feel like it is, but it's not. I know you, Donut, you'd never do anything that would justify anybody being mad enough to do this."

  
"It _is_ my fault," Donut whimpered, shaking from the strenght of his sobs, "I know not to antagonize him, but I always do. I bitch too much, or I don't make eye contact, or I wake him up with my nightmares...or I look up how to get away from him." The last part was barely audible, but again, nobody missed it.

  
Sarge tensed again, but this time, he did respond. "Donut, I know where your train of thought is going, and I won't sit here and let you blame yourself. None of what you just said justifies the shit he's put you through. You had every right to want out. I didn't drive half an hour in the middle of the goddamn night to get you just for you to crawl back to him. Do you understand me, boy?" Donut nodded, relaxing against him. The commanding tone the older man usually took never failed to calm him down.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donut relives more of his childhood. Will the others understand his unwillingness to open up?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly feel really bad for Donut in this chapter. Poor thing can't catch a break. Anyway, I'd just like to point out that the dream Donut has relates back to the dream he had in chapter two.

After everyone had talked for about an hour, Grif and Simmons stayed with Donut so Sarge could get some air. Donut reclined the bed and looked up at his former teammates. "How have you guys been?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

"We've been great," Simmons spouted before Grif could say anything, "I went back to the island with Dex when we got out, and this asshole finally popped the question about a year ago." Donut immediately sat back up, large amounts of painkillers masking the sensation of his stitches pulling slightly. "Oh my god, you guys, congrats!" he squealed before Grif forced him to lie back down, "I wanna help."

Grif and Simmons looked at each other with a shared smile. "Of course you're helping," Simmons replied, "Who else would we ask? There's no way we're letting Kai's colorblind ass anywhere near this thing until it's time." Donut's smile grew. "Where's my phone?" he asked, "I already have ideas."

Grif and Simmons exchanged another look before the ginger responded. "About that," he said, resting a hand on the blonde's shoulder, "While you were still in surgery, he wouldn't stop calling, and he kept texting threatening to kill you, and you know how Sarge gets...you're phone's at the bottom of a pond, dude. But we did go get your laptop, so that's a plus, right?"

"Why don't you get some rest?" Grif suggested, "You're pretty loaded up on morphine right now, last time you were this legally high and had access to Pinterest, you bedazzled everybody's underwear." Donut nodded with a tiny sigh. "Sleep, buddy," Simmons murmured, "Nobody's going anywhere."

Donut nodded again and allowed himself to drift off.

_"Please, Daddy," he whimpers, suddenly fourteen again, "I promise, I'll be better. I'm sorry, Daddy." Without thinking of the consequences, he chokes out, "I don't wanna like boys, I just do." By the time he realized his mistake, his father's fist connected with his gut._

_"No son of mine is gonna be a faggot," his father sneered, "You'll be with a girl if I have to beat this nonsense out of you." He whimpers again as his father steps down, his heavy boots crushing his ankle._

His eyes shot open, his unconscious scream ringing out through the room. Before he could say anything, Simmons was beside him again, stroking his hair. "You're safe," he whispered, "You're safe, I promise. Nobody's hurting you now." Donut nodded weakly, not trusting himself to speak yet.

Out of nowhere, Sarge burst into  the room. "What happened?" he demanded, scanning the room. Donut blushed and covered his face. "Just a nightmare, Sir," he said timidly, "Don't worry about me." The older man sat down beside him, squeezing his shoulder gently.

Donut couldn't bring himself to say what was on his mind. He had never told anyone how bad things had been growing up. He couldn't let anyone know how his father had beaten him almost daily as a child, how he'd been forced into camp after camp in a fruitless attempt to stamp out his homosexual tendencies, how he was scared close his eyes on particularly bad days because he was still scared of what would happen when he let himself drop his guard.

  
'He's not like Frank,' he tried to convince himself, 'He's not like Daddy. _'Doesn't mean he won't be pissed if you don't answer,'_ his unconscious told him.

"Look at me," the older man directed, the familiar, commanding tone creeping back into his voice. Instinctively, Donut looked up. "You're a bad liar, Donut," Sarge continued, "Talk to me, Kid."

Donut tensed, torn between his instinct to obey and his desperation to keep the details of his childhood secret. "I can't," he whispered, automatically reaching up to protect his face. Three pairs of arms wrapped around him, and he relaxed slightly, but he maintained his defensive position.

 


	5. Putting it Out There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donut does some thinking, and decides to tell his story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm not updating as fast, but I finally got caught up enough with homework to get some non-academic writing in. Now if I could just get over this sinus infection/bronchitis/whatever the hell I have, that'd be great.

Internally, Donut was struggling. _'We've all been through some shit,'_ he thought, _'They'll understand if you just let it out.'_   Obviously, this was a rational thought, but repressing his childhood memories was a hard habit to break. Unconsciously, he leaned into Sarge before whispering, "My childhood sucked, okay? The dream wasn't about Frank, it was about my dad."

The room went silent, and Donut took a deep breath before continuing.

* * *

"My mom was seventeen when she had me...my dad was nineteen. I'm from a really small, conservative farm town, so it's a really big deal when the girl at the top of the class drops out to have a kid, especially if the father is an asshole farm boy who lost his huge football scholarship because he blew his knee out. I think that's part of why my parents had so many issues. She had potential, a full ride to anywhere she wanted to go in the country before she dropped out, and he wasn't going anywhere. Everybody knew she deserved better."

"Anyway, she died when I was six. Car accident. She was picking me up from school and a huge truck was coming into our lane. She leaned over to protect me, and it snapped her neck. I was fine after a week in the hospital, and according to my dad that's all the proof he needed that it was my fault. He started hitting the bottle the night after the funeral, and started beating the shit out of me the same night. Never hesitated to remind me she'd be alive if I hadn't been in the car."

"At first, it was only when he was drunk. Then it got to where he was almost always drunk. Eventually, it got to the point where it didn't matter how much he'd had; I was always the target. He'd hit me for anything. I got in his way, he'd hit me, and I'd stay away. My grades started slipping, he'd hit me, and I'd work my ass off to get them back up. That's just how it was."

"Then when I was eleven, I started realizing I was gay, and the whole thing went to shit. My whole town was insanely religious, so I tried _every fucking day_ to pray the thoughts away. I did everything I could. I wouldn't say _one word_ to another guy unless he was an authority figure because I was so scared of people knowing."

"Then when I was fourteen, I had to work with this guy I really liked, and he came over to work on it while my dad was gone because I had all the stuff we needed at home. It was great, but then my big ass mouth had to get in the way, and I said the gayest thing I've ever said in my life, and before I know it the guy's kissing me."

"Then my dad came home wasted, and my dumb ass left the door open, so he walks in on us making out, and he drags the guy out of my house and beats the living fuck out of me. He completely shattered my ankle that night. That's why I've always had a bit of a limp."

"As soon as the cast came off, my dad forced me into one of those 'pray the gay away' conversion camps. Like I hadn't already tried doing exactly that. Anyway, it was ten times worse than living with my dad. They beat the shit out of us constantly, and the only way you got to eat is if you showed 'progress,' which of course my flamboyant ass never did. They gave me just enough to keep me alive, but there are days I still wish they'd have just let me fucking die."

"I went to three of those camps before my dad decided military school was better. As much as I hated it, I worked my ass off. It got me away from my dad and I at least got a meal every day. Even when the conditions sucked, I knew it was better than camp or my dad's house. My grades were stellar, even though I was tiny and can barely run. By the end, I realized it was better to enlist than go back to Iowa."

 


	6. Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donut's painkillers are wearing off, and he's miserable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been so busy, I decided to post a bit of filler so you guys can stay interested. I'm so sorry this is taking so long; it's almost the end of the semester for me, and I'm an education major, so I'm swamped with paperwork and observation hours, and I've also got a big English paper do in a week about something I'm very passionate about, so that's taking up a lot of my time. Anyway, I finally put in a bit of Sargenut because I've got a lot going on, so I needed to put something with my OTP in to cheer me up a little.

By the time Donut had finished his story, his nerves were ablaze with sensation. He wanted desperately to get up and move, but if the bandages around the majority of his torso were anything to go by, that wasn't an option.

  
"So, what actually happened?" he asked, looking up at Sarge, "I know you said I was in surgery for six hours, but...how bad was it?" He almost regretted asking when he saw the look on the older man's face.

  
"Whatever that bastard did to you," Sarge said, squeezing Donut's shoulder, "it broke every goddamn rib. Punctured a lung and ruptured your appendix. They already had to start transfusions before they found the source. There's no way you should have been conscious when I got to you."

  
Donut winced, absently resting his head against the other's shoulder, only to lurch forward when he realized what he was doing. This, of course, tugged at his stitches, causing him to curl in on himself.

"Take it easy, man," Grif said, "Lay back down, okay? You're gonna end up hurting yourself." Donut nodded, reclining the bed before clutching his abdomen.

"I'm gonna go get a nurse," Simmons said, standing up, "Looks like the painkillers are wearing off." Donut nodded again, a pained grimace contorting his typically cheerful features.

By the time Simmons came back, a nurse with a syringe of morphine in tow, Donut was in agony. "Relax, sweetie," the nurse said, "You've been asleep the last few days, and your body's trying to catch up. You'll feel better in a few minutes once the drugs kick in." Donut nodded absently, fighting back tears.

Once the painkillers began to take effect, Donut found himself nodding off. "Get some sleep, dude," Grif said, mussing up his hair, "Me and Dick are gonna head back to our hotel. We'll be back in the morning." Donut nodded sleepily, dozing off before he could utter a response.

What none of the others saw was their former CO pressing a kiss to the youngest's forehead once he was soundly asleep.


	7. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donut is staying with Sarge until he gets back on his feet. His nightmares are getting worse, but Sarge always seems to know what he needs. Possible triggers for this chapter. Mentions of rape in a relationship and child sexual abuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay. Between being sick off and on and the end of the semester kicking my ass, I barely have time to get through my day-to-day tasks, let alone write. Once the semester is over in two weeks, I should have more time to write, but I've got vacations planned and I'm trying to get a job, so that might not be the case. Anyway, have some more pre-Sargenut fluff because I've been on an emotional rollercoaster with my anxiety and I needed caring Sarge and angsty Donut to make me feel better.

Donut awoke in a cold sweat, tears streaking down his cheeks. It had been three days since he was released from the hospital, and he had been staying in Sarge's guest room ever since, with the only condition being that he found a job when he was cleared to work.

Unfortunately, his nightmares had been worse since he first day he'd woken up in the hospital. In addition to the nightmares of his father, his dreams now included Frank's voice spitting out terrifying threats and sharp-edged insults. They now featured a second set of painful blows; they featured precise, surgeon's hands around his throat; they featured the pain of forced intercourse and the fear of O'Malley still being out when he woke up in the morning.

When he regained his composure, he suddenly noticed a firm hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he made eye contact with his former CO, and relaxed a bit. Since he'd been staying with him, Donut had begun to rediscover the feelings he had once held, and repressed, for the older man during their military days. Before he could verbalize his confusion, Sarge withdrew his hand.

"Heard you screaming from upstairs kid," he said, "Had to wake you up before you hurt yourself." Donut nodded, reclining back against his pillows. He was silently grateful that Sarge had never been the type to pry. He didn't know if he would ever be mentally ready to talk about what he'd just relived.

Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was only three in the morning. "Sorry if I woke you up," he muttered, looking down at the comforter he was wrapped in, "I won't bother you next time." The older man's hand returned to his shoulder, and he once again felt himself relax. "Don't worry about me," the older man said, squeezing the younger's shoulder, "I'm fine. You're still healing though, kid. You need to rest."

Donut sighed. Before he fully processed what he was doing, he'd already whispered, "Can you stay until I fall asleep again?" Internally cursing himself for his weakness, he quickly stuttered out, "N-never mind. Can we f-forget I said that?" To his credit, he didn't start crying. His heart was pounding, he was trembling, and he suddenly had the urge to bury himself under the covers like a child, but he didn't cry.

"I won't go anywhere unless you want me to," Sarge said, an uncharacteristic response from the older man, "Look kid, I might not be the best with emotional bullshit, but if there's one thing I learned in the service, it's when my soldiers need me. Discharged or not, no man left behind still applies." Donut smiled, absently leaning against the other man. "Thanks, sir," he murmured, "I know it's kinda childish, but this really helps."

After a few minutes, Donut was asleep, and for the first time in years, he wasn't plagued by nightmares.

When he awoke a few hours later, there was a note beside him on the pillow, telling him that Sarge had gone out for a grocery run and left breakfast for him in the kitchen. He gingerly got out of bed and made his way there. He was touched by this strange domestic side of his former CO. He had never expected to see this side, and it was strangely heartwarming.

After he had finished his breakfast, Donut made his way to the living room, deciding to start his job hunt while watching some shitty reality TV. He knew he wouldn't be able to work for a few months due to the extensive nature of his injuries, but he wanted to be prepared. Despite the other man's insistance to the contrary, Donut knew that his staying there was a burden on Sarge, and he _hated_ feeling like a burden to people he cared about.

Without realizing, he soon found himself dozing off.

_He was ten years old again. He had just come home from his elementary school graduation, and his father was already drinking again. He knew how this would end. Even after the biggest achievement of his young life so far, he couldn't get even one night of happiness. Not once since he had lost his mother had he been spared from his father's drunken rampages._

_He found himself praying as he hid under his bed._ He had always been a religious child before the camps. _He found himself praying for anything that would save him from another beating tonight. He had already had to carefully hide bruises under his dress shirt from the night before. The idea of being alone with his father for the next two months terrified him.  
_

_Before he could finish his prayer, he was dragged out by his ankles. Instinctively, he began pleading. "Please daddy," he whimpered, "I've been good all week. I even did extra chores. And I made all A's, daddy. Please don't be mad. I promise I've been good." The back of his head connected with his nightstand before he could continue.  
_

_He came to later that night, dizzy and nauseous. He couldn't remember anything, but his arm felt funny, and his bottom hurt when he moved for some reason. When he opened his eyes, he was still on the floor of his bedroom, and he was in his underwear. When he was able to get up to put on his pajamas, he saw in the mirror that there was blood on his underwear._ He wouldn't understand what had happened that night until he was much older. _  
_

Donut woke up to a gentle hand smoothing his hair. His eyes shot open, suddenly afraid that he was back with Frank. His breathing calmed when he realized the only person in the room was Sarge, who had quickly retracted his hand when he realized Donut was awake.

  
"Please don't make me talk about it," Donut whispered, curling in on himself as best he could with his injuries, "I don't think I can talk about it."


	8. What Did I Get Myself Into?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donut is still reflecting on his feelings for Sarge. What happens when an emotional text meant for Simmons is accidentally sent to Sarge as well?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically just a filler chapter, because I really couldn't find a way to bridge the gap between Donut coming to terms with his feelings and those feelings actually becoming known.

A few days after the incident, Donut found himself on the couch beside Sarge. While the older man was watching TV, he was browsing through Pinterest, sending possible wedding ideas to Grif and Simmons. Every so often, he caught himself glancing up at Sarge, smiling at his reactions to whatever it was he was watching. He unconsciously began to reach out, snapping back to reality and jerking his hand back just before he could make contact.

  
Though he had finally admitted to himself that he was attracted to the older man, he continued to repress the more extreme of his emotions, fearing not only rejection, but also the potential loss of the only person he fully trusted. Though he had been extremely accepting of the fact that the entirety of his team was gay, as far as any of them knew, Sarge was the epitome of straight-ness. Donut couldn't bear the possibility of losing him if he revealed his feelings, despite having privately yearned for this man for the majority of his adult life.

Thinking for a moment, he sent out a text to both Grif and Simmons.

**Just wondering, how straight would you say you think Sarge is?**

It was a few minutes before Simmons responded.

**  
Normally I would say straighter than a fucking ruler, but seeing the way he looked at you while you were in the hospital and he thought nobody was watching, I definitely think I might have caught some bi vibes.**

Grif responded shortly after.

  
**While you were in the hospital, he looked at you like a lovesick puppy when he thought we weren't paying attention, so I'd say probably bi or some kind of heteroflexible.**

Without realizing it, Donut had scooted closer to Sarge during this time, nearly touching him now. Before he could fully process what he wanted to do, he stood up and bolted back to his room. Well, as close to bolting as he could get with all of his ribs broken and still having stitches.

  
Lying down on the bed, he reflected for another moment before sending out another text to Simmons.

**It scares the hell out of me to admit this, but I really like Sarge. I have since Blood Gulch, but I'm so scared this would ruin everything. I trust him more than anyone, I'd be a mess if I lost this. I just don't know what to do.**

Unbeknownst to Donut, he had accidentally sent the message to Sarge as well.

  
Simmons responded after a minute.

**I don't know what to tell you, man. Dex told me before I could man up and tell him.**

Donut sighed before recieving a text from Sarge.

  
**You could have just told me face to face, kid.**

Donut's face turned as pink as his short shorts and the streak in his hair.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarge comes to Donut after last chapter's text, and some fluff happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another super duper short chapter even though I should really be getting ready for finals. College is currently sucking the life out of me, and my stress migraines are coming back because of testing, but I'm still trying to crank chapters out at least semi-regularly. I also want to send a happy 20th birthday shout out to my best friend even though I have no idea if she's reading this story.

Although he dreaded the possible outcomes of opening the door, Donut couldn't stop himself from letting Sarge in when the other man knocked.

  
"At least you know now," he muttered, looking down at his feet, "Please don't hate me for this. I've tried to fight it, and I did for a while there, but now that you're back in my life it's all coming back, and I just..." He was cut off by a pair of lips against his own.  
Instinctively, his arms wound around the other man, one locking around his waist and the other slinking up to bury his hand in the other's greying hair. He was lifted gently after a moment, and the kiss became more insistent.

  
"Wish I wasn't hurt," he whined, nuzzling into the other's chest, "Want it so bad." Sarge simply smirked and pressed a kiss to his temple. "I'll take care of you as soon as you're cleared for more activity," he said, pressing another kiss to his jaw, "but you need to stop squirming before you pull your stitches out."

  
Donut nodded, not without a pout, and rested his head on the elder's shoulder. The rest of their day was peaceful, mostly spent in deep conversation-they wouldn't define the relationship yet, not until it became necessary-with Donut pressed as closely as possible into the other's side. Unfortunately, even falling asleep with Sarge's arms wrapped around him wasn't enough to keep the nightmares at bay this time.


	10. Don't Hate Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donut wakes up from a nightmare, and Sarge is there to comfort him. Will Donut share more of his past?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay between chapters this time. I had a lot to do with finishing up for finals, but the semester's over now. I had a job interview yesterday for my local YMCA's special needs summer camp, and I'm supposed to hear back from them in the next week. If I get the job, it's only 4 hours a day, 3 days a week for most of June and the first few weeks of July, so I should still have time to post. The only time I know for sure I probably won't be able to post is June 2-4 because I'll be on vacation.

_He's twenty-one, already three years into his military service, and he's pressed between Frank and the door of a dirty bathroom stall in a seedy gay club. Between adrenaline and alcohol, his nerves are alight. He's already told Frank that he doesn't want to do this, but the other man isn't listening. Instead, one hand is palming insistently at the front of his shorts, and the other is pulling hard at his hair, all while the other man is grinding roughly against his ass._

 

_As much as he wants to, he won't cry out for help. Though Frank claims to be a pacifist, he's seen the other man angry, and he's terrified of what would happen if he drew attention to them. Instead, he finds himself praying to a God he's not sure he's believed in since he was a child. There are tears pouring down his cheeks, intermingling with blood, having bitten through his lip without realizing it. Despite the pain, he refuses to make a sound. He refuses to give Frank another reason to hurt him._

 

_He wants desperately to struggle. He wants to shove Frank away and run, but he knows the other man can outrun him any day. He brags frequently about having run track in high school after all. Besides that, he'd barely survived basic with his bad ankle. It had been shattered twice, and if he put any real effort into running, it would probably snap._

 

_Minutes that feel like hours tick by, and he finally gives in. “Please,” he whispers, “Please, Frank, I love you, but I'm not ready for this...” Before he can continue, the hand in his hair slams his face into the metal door in front of him multiple times, and his world goes black. When he wakes up, he's in agony, and his shorts are stained with blood. After so many years, he finally realizes what happened with his father that night when he was ten._

 

Donut woke up screaming, blood dripping down his face where he had bitten through his lip in his sleep.

 

“Shh,” Sarge whispered, pulling him into his lap and stroking his hair, “I got you. You're safe.” It had been the first night Donut had slept in the elder's bed; they had hoped there would be no nightmares that night.

 

“I'm so sorry,” he whispered when he realized he had gotten blood on the sheets, “I'll clean it up, I promise. I'm so, so sorry.” Instinctively, he reached up to protect his face, his memory automatically going back to a time when he had wet the bed after a nightmare when he was six. Most parents would have been understanding, considering that he had just lost his mother. His father wasn't.

 

Sarge sighed, taking his hands and guiding them away from his face. “Look at me,” the older man instructed, tilting his head up when he didn't budge. “You don't have to be sorry, kid,” he said, stroking his hair with his free hand, “It was an accident, it could have happened to anyone. Nobody's gonna hurt you.” Donut whimpered softly, looking away again.

 

Sarge sighed again, pressing kisses into his hair. “Talk to me,” he said, “I may not be good with emotions, but I do care about you. Let me help you, Donut.”  Donut whimpered again, burying his face into Sarge's shoulder. “You'll hate me,” he whispered, “If you knew what I _let_ them do to me, you wouldn't want me. I don't know why you want me now, anyway.”

 


	11. In the words of Usher, "These are my confessions."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donut finally comes clean about what exactly he was dreaming about. Angst and fluff ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really angsty and fluffy chapter this time around. Sorry about that.

When Donut had cried himself out, Sarge pulled him back into his lap, still stroking his hair. “Donut, look at me. There's nothing you can say to me right now to make me hate you. Whatever has you this worked up, there's no way it could have been your fault.”

 

Donut looked up, wiping away the remnants of his tears. “I don't know why I ever stayed with him,” he whispered, “The only time he ever even acted like he cared was after he already hurt me. Even then, as soon as I was healed up enough, he'd start right back. He'd play the good doctor role for a few days, then he'd be right back to the yelling, and the insults, and then finally he'd just snap and O'Malley would come back out, and the whole cycle would start over.”

 

He took a deep breath before continuing. “Even on his good days, I wasn't enough. I knew he cheated, but every time I called him out on it, he would spin it back on me, so I eventually just gave up. I did everything I could to keep him happy, it just wasn't enough. Nothing I did was enough.” Wiping away some of the blood still flowing from his split lip, he continued, “There's a reason I don't wear shorts anymore, and it's not just because he hated other people seeing my ass. I was in a really dark place for a while, and I didn't see any way out of it. It got so bad I started cutting words into my thighs. They all healed up without scarring but one.”

 

Timidly, he raised the leg of his pajama pants to reveal the word ' _pathetic_ ' carved into his thigh, the letters pale from time, but still clearly visible. “I always tell the doctors I got branded in basic,” he said, chuckling softly, “It works with the USMC tattoo I got right after basic, so they usually buy it. It saves me a few days of psych eval, anyway.” He wiped more blood from his mouth before continuing. “I honestly thought about just downing a bottle of pain killers and being done with the whole thing, but I realized that would just be giving him the satisfaction of breaking me.”

 

“You know what's sad?” he continued, fighting back a fresh onslaught of tears, “I think I've only had good, consensual sex maybe twice in my life. I'm almost thirty, that's fucking depressing. My dad raped me when I was ten, and I'm scared to think how many times Frank did it. I eventually just got to where I let him have his way, because it was either that or him beating the shit out of me.”

 

Sarge silently pressed a kiss into his hair, holding him as tightly as possible without aggravating his injuries. After a few moments, Donut broke the silence. “I'm sorry,” he said, wiping his eyes, “I know that was a lot to just dump on you like that. That's what my dream was about, by the way...the first time Frank...you know. I kept telling him I wasn't ready, he just wasn't having it.”

 

When he realized he was shaking, he rested his head on the older man's chest, allowing the steady thrum of his heartbeat to calm him. “I know you probably don't want me now,” he whispered, “but can you hold me a little longer?”

 

The arm around his waist pulled him closer, and the hand in his hair moved down to cup his cheek. “You're not getting rid of me that easy,” was Sarge's gruff reply before kissing him deeply, despite his split and still bleeding lip.

 

“It's official,” Donut panted when they finally separated, “My next appointment needs to hurry up; I don't think I can wait for this much longer.”

 


	12. Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally wanted this chapter to be their first time. Then I decided on pre-smut and a lot of angst and feels. Then I decided to make it just angst and feels and imply that the initial smut already happened. I promised, we'll get to the smut eventually, I just really wanted to get some more Donut feels out first. I'd just like to point out that, while I'm a year out of an emotionally abusive relationship, I have literally zero experience with what I'm putting this poor baby through. And Donut's statement has no reflection on my experience or opinion with therapists, it just fit with the context. Also, this is an extremely long chapter that I literally cried while writing.

_He's been living with Frank for almost a year, and it's only getting worse. He's not allowed to work, and though he hasn't checked, he knows Frank must have installed cameras around the house to make sure he didn't leave._

 

_His social media and texts are strictly monitored; he's only allowed to make and answer calls when Frank is with him; he's not even allowed to watch television, regardless of Frank's presence. Anything he does could arouse another appearance from O'Malley, so he plays it safe; he spends his entire day, from the moment he wakes up to the moment Frank drags him into bed, doing chores. His hours are monotonous, but he does anything he can to keep O'Malley from coming out._

 

_He's lucky if he can avoid O'Malley at least one day a week. The house is always spotless, he always has dinner on the table when Frank comes home from the hospital, he stays off social media other than to pin cleaning and cooking tips, and he keeps his mouth shut. It's never enough. The beatings only get harsher, and the rules only become more strict._

 

_He's only allowed to wear baggy gray sweats, he's not allowed to answer the door unless Frank specifies there's supposed to be a visitor that day. The only thing he's allowed to eat is one salad a week, with absolutely no dressing, because Frank is convinced if he loses weight, he won't be attractive to anyone else. The only time this rule is ever lifted is when Frank has a coworker over for dinner, to avoid suspicion,but he's only allowed small portions, and it's so rarely lifted that those extra calories never get a chance to show._

 

_He's learned after years of similar treatment not to complain. Complaining only leads to more beatings and fewer meals. He convinces himself that he's getting better than he deserves, and he keeps pushing on. He rationalizes the abuse day after day until that fateful night when he's twenty-seven and he finally panics and calls Grif because he's finally reached his breaking point._

 

“What are you thinking about?” Sarge asks, rubbing gentle circles into Donut's back. Donut just shakes his head, resting his head on the elder's chest. He's too busy analyzing his behavior since he was released from the hospital, searching for any sign that he's let some aspect of his previous treatment show.

 

_He wolfs down the hospital food the first day he wakes up, because despite the bland flavor, it's the first food he's had in days. He doesn't even bother with the toppings and condiment packets they included on his tray. His only thought is that it's the first burger he's been allowed to have since before his mother died, and the first food he's had at all in over a week. He then downs the entirety of the small milk carton, because he's only had water since he'd first been sent to camp._

 

He cringed inwardly at the memory, before realizing they all probably just assumed he was starving after being unconscious for three days. Most of his behaviors were at least somewhat explainable. He flinched away from physical contact because he'd been hurt so many times it'd become a reflex. He let others make most of the decisions because he'd never had a say. He covered his ears whenever anybody argued because he was so used to being yelled at. Those behaviors were excusable. Those behaviors could be shrugged off, explained away.

 

He was pulled from his thoughts when Sarge pulled him into his lap, still rubbing his back. “Relax,” the older man said, pressing a kiss to his temple, “Whatever it is that's bothering you, it's okay. Just relax and let daddy take care of you. I'm right here, baby boy.” Donut's blush rivaled the shade of his highlights, but he melted into the elder's touch automatically. He'd been cleared for activity over a week ago, and they'd spent most of the time fooling around, which is how they accidentally discovered that the younger had a serious daddy kink. This was the first time it had been mentioned outside of their bedroom activities, and he was almost embarrassed to admit how much he loved it.

 

“Daddy's right here,” Sarge repeated, kissing his forehead, “Talk to me baby.” Despite his subconscious screaming at him to repress the memory and move on, Donut took a deep breath and began his third big confession since waking up in the hospital. “I'm just not used to this,” he whispered, wiping away tears, “I'm not used to somebody actually wanting me around. Every time I go to bed, I'm scared I'll wake up and none of this will be real. I'm always scared I'll wake up and I'll be back with... _him_. I'm scared you're gonna finally realize how pathetic and disgusting I am and throw me out on my ass.”

 

He choked back a sob, still wiping away tears. “I don't deserve this,” he whispered, “I've had it too good for too long. I don't deserve any of what you've done for me. I'm stupid, and worthless, and...and...” He was suddenly to overcome with tears to continue.

 

“Look at me, baby boy,” Sarge said, firmly enough that he would listen but softly enough not to scare him, “Just listen to yourself. I don't know how he managed to convince you that you don't deserve basic human decency, but I promise you, you deserve so much better than what you've been through.” Donut smiled weakly, tears still shining in his eyes.

 

“I was lucky if I went a day without him hitting me,” he whispered, his voice still unsteady from crying, “I followed every single one of his rules to the letter, but it was never good enough. I kept the house spotless, I kept meals on the table, I obeyed without question but it. Wasn't. _Enough_. I was more his slave than his partner but I just kept justifying it. It was easier to keep blaming myself then to even consider complaining. Complaining just meant more beatings and stricter rules. At least if I kept my mouth shut I could pretend he actually cared.”

 

“He was so strict it was ridiculous. He had cameras in the house to make sure I didn't leave. He kept tabs on my Facebook, my Instagram, my texts, all of it. I was only allowed to call somebody or answer the phone when he was with me so he could make sure it was innocent. I wasn't allowed to answer the door while he was at work unless he told me beforehand he was expecting a delivery. He made me stay in baggy sweats. He wouldn't let me work out, so I lost all the muscle I got from training, and he pretty much starved me for so long I'm still scared to eat. He was convinced if I got so skinny I looked sick, nobody else would want me. Somehow my fucked up psyche even managed to justify _that_. And I'm trying to move on but I'm still trying to justify it. I should probably really be in therapy but I just know they're gonna judge me for not leaving sooner.”

 

“The sad thing is,” he whispered, “I used to be so flamboyant and confident, but that part of me broke years ago, and I'm scared I'm too far gone to get it back. I wouldn't let him break my will to live, but he completely destroyed my spirit. I'm just...broken. And I really wanna fix myself but I don't know how. I'm so scared, daddy.”

 

Sarge sighed, stroking his hair and cradling him like a child. “I know baby boy,” he said, rocking him just noticeably, “We'll figure something out. I promise, we'll get you the help you need whenever you're ready.” Between the steady rocking and the emotional exhaustion, Donut fell asleep.

 


	13. I Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donut wakes up from another nightmare, and as always, Sarge is there to help. A plan is created to help Donut cope with his past, and the "l-word" is finally said. Who says it, and how does the other react?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long to get out. When I first started this story, I was at a place in my life where I could freely write just about whenever I wanted. Unfortunately, over the summer, I had a bit of a health scare where my bad knee was in constant pain and I was looking at another surgery (thankfully, that never happened). Then, from August until about two weeks ago, I was balancing full time college and a part time job (which I was unfortunately let go from due to budget cuts and being the most recent hire). Unfortunately, with the holidays and my birthday coming up in the next few days, as well as the spring semester beginning in two weeks, I won't have time to write freely again for a while, though I will try to refrain from 7-month gaps between updates in the future. Sorry in advance if this chapter doesn't flow as well as previous ones, as this is the first thing I've written in seven months that wasn't academic. Warnings for this chapter include mentions of rape (it's not extremely graphic, but it's the thought process taking place in the midst of the act) and references to self harm and suicidal thoughts.

_He tries not to think about the warm liquid, which he knows has to be blood, dripping down his thighs. He tries not to think about the unbearable pain radiating from his ass. He tries not to think about Frank, the larger man's hands leaving bruises on his hips; bruises that will take weeks to fade, and memories that never will._

_Instead, he tries to think back to his military days, his time with the Red Team. He tries to remember the happiness he had felt back then, before Frank had entered his life. He suppresses a fond smile at memories of Grif and Simmons' constant bickering._

_He tries to change his train of thought when his memories shift to Sarge; he'd spent his entire time with the team trying to deny his feelings for the older man. It feels wrong to think of another man during sex with his boyfriend, even if it isn't consensual._

_Forcing his eyes open, he turns to look back at Frank. He is rewarded with his face being shoved into the mattress. For a brief moment, he almost hopes he suffocates._

* * *

 

Donut woke up to a hand in his hair and a gruff but gentle voice telling him he was safe. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to nuzzle into Sarge's chest. “I'm sorry daddy,” he whispered, “I didn't mean to wake you up.”

Sarge cut him off with a kiss before speaking. “You're fine Franklin,” he said, stroking the younger man's hair, “You didn't wake me up. I got up to start breakfast but you were screaming by the time I got downstairs. Do you feel like talking about it?”

Donut shook his head, then nodded. “Y-you know how I told you Frank raped me?” he stuttered, “I-it was one of those times. It was right after I moved in with him. He started out really sweet, but then he wanted sex, and when I wouldn't give it to him...h-he just held me down and took it.” He clung tightly to Sarge before continuing. “I kept trying to think of anything but what was happening. It wasn't the first time he did it, but at least I was unconscious the first time. I kept thinking about those few months between basic and meeting him when I was actually happy, but then I started thinking about you and how safe you always made me feel, and I panicked because it didn't feel right when I was sleeping with someone I thought I was in love with, even if I didn't want it. When it was done and he finally calmed down enough to be back to himself, he kept telling me he loved me, but that it was _my fault._ That was the first time I thought about ending it. I'd hurt myself before, in the conversion camps, but that was the first time I was _actually_ suicidal.”

Sarge said nothing for a few moments, silently holding Donut to his chest; rubbing his back and pressing gentle kisses into his hair. “I swear to god,” he said after a while, “If I _ever_ see that sick bastard again, I'm putting a goddamn bullet in his head. Him and your no good father.” Donut cracked a smile at that, knowing he was completely serious.

“Since we're on the subject,” he murmured, peeking up through his bangs “I think I want to write out what happened to me. I don't know if it will even help, but I can't keep holding it in and it hurts too much to say it out loud. I was thinking it would help communication between us, too. If it's written out, it would help center the conversation to a specific incident when I'm scared, and even if it's too hard for me to talk about, you can still know. And if it's out there in front of us, we can at least go from there and figure out some of what causes the panic attacks.”

Sarge pressed a kiss to his temple. “That sounds like a good place to start,” the elder encouraged, “If you want to try this, then go for it.”

“I love you,” Donut blurted out. He briefly fought the urge to run away, but that plan was soon forgotten when he was pulled into a long, tender kiss.

 


End file.
